Sing With Me
by idioticonion
Summary: Will wakes up to find that he's been kidnapped. By Bryan Ryan. Warning - dark, non-con, explicit m/m slash - Will / Bryan Ryan


Will Schuester never knew how to deal with wanting Bryan Ryan until the day he woke up lying on the floor, coughing blood, in the darkness.

It was dark because a rough blindfold had been tied around his eyes, and as soon as he began to moan from the pain, something dusty and soft was forced between his teeth. Not the most effective gag, but Will's brain was too traumatized to work out a way to fight back.

"You had to do it," the voice came from above. "You had to push. You had to take me to that bar, with your sweet talk and your _hope_." The voice spat the last word, bitter and full of spite.

Hands pushed Will down on the floor, with a hard, numbing crunch, then the blindfold was dragged from his eyes. Fingers dug painfully into his shoulders.

Bryan.

"You had to do it. You don't know how hard it was!" There were tears, twin tracks of moisture down Bryan's filthy face. In the dim light, Will could make out the dirt on Bryan's shirt, the blood on his knuckles.

Pain blossomed, pounded, reasserted itself all over Will's body. He's was pretty sure that somewhere along the line, someone had worked him over, maybe broken a few bones. His mouth worked at the gag, eyes opening wide, pleading and helpless. He tried to move but his limbs felt heavy, full of pins and needles. Only one leg twitched spasmodically. He was pretty sure that his hands were tied together, behind his back.

"Years," Bryan sobbed, standing upright and aiming a well placed kick to Will's ribs, causing him to curl into a protective ball against the sickening crack in his side. Blinking rapidly, he let out an agonised howl, the sound muted behind the wet cloth in his mouth. Desperately, he tried to look around him, to see where he was.

The floor was filthy, covered in dirt, and the darkness stretched out in all directions. It was cold, and smelled strange, out-doors-y, like a barn.

Dear God... they were in a- a barn? - in the middle of nowhere. No one would find them, or hear them.

Bryan kicked him again, a blunt, awful blow. Inescapable, but it didn't hurt so much as the first time. Will thought he was probably in shock.

"Years, Will. Years!" Bryan's voice cracked, rising in pitch. "I was clean until you came back into my life. And now my wife, my job, it isn't enough. I need to perform! I need an audience!"

He laughed, low, nasty. "All because of you, Will Schuester."

Bryan dropped to his knees, gripped Will's shirt and ripped, his angry hands making short work of it. He didn't bother to remove it completely, moving quickly on to his jeans, dragging down the zipper with enough force to break it. In one savage movement he caught the waistband of Will's pants and yanked them down with both hands, all the way to his knees and further, leaving Will in his boxers.

Then Bryan began to giggle. Disturbing enough, until the noise quickly dissolved into sobs. Will tried to crawl away, undulating his body like a worm, putting a few feet of space between himself and his captor. Bryan barely seemed to notice.

"I need an audience," he said, low and threatening, popping his fly with one hand. "I need to perform."

There was a smell, like something burning, smoky and acrid. Will's heart lurched in his chest. He continued his efforts at escape, even though every jolt against the dirt floor sent spikes of pain through his body. He kicked out when he found he could no longer move, realizing that Bryan had gotten hold of him again. The other man's faced loomed close and for the first time Will could see his eyes - black holes with barely any blue left.

Bryan was high; high as a kite.

He began to giggle again, his fingernails scoring Will's skin as he pulled down his boxers.

"Sing with me," Bryan whispered, his breath sickly sweet.

Will gulped when Bryan looked down, staring at his exposed groin, and he groaned, a rough, needy sound. It was wrong, so fucking wrong that there wasn't even a word for it, but Will was turned on, badly, painfully. His dick was stiff and heavy against his thigh, jerking slightly.

So wrong, there wasn't even a word for it.

Bryan didn't smile, just stared down at him dispassionately, the tears still wet, glistening on his cheeks. Then suddenly, clumsily, he reached out and rolled Will over on to his front. The bare earth felt gritty and harsh against Will's belly, his bare legs.

Against his erection.

When Bryan forced his legs apart, Will froze, stunned, even when he felt something wet and warm push between his buttocks. His fingers twitched, wrists and forearms aching behind his back and he had to turn his head to prevent himself suffocating as the weight settle down on top of him.

"Will..."

The single word, soft, in his ear, made him buck up against the force pressing inside him, opening him wide and pinning him. He could feel everything, the quiet sobs that spasmed in Bryan's chest, the tense of the other man's thighs between his own. Bryan's fingers tightened in his hair, pulled his head off the floor as he pressed into him, deeper, more painfully. The ground spun beneath them.

"Why did you do this to me?" Bryan whispered, and moved in, moved on, in. When Will shut his eyes all he could see was blonde hair, bright blue eyes, that rage that was locked deep inside the man, that despair.

Now he had let that rage out.

Will Schuster had never known how to deal with wanting Bryan, but it seemed as though Bryan had wanted him too, all this time. Was it sex, or hatred, or a combination?

Whatever it was, in moments Will was driven into the ground, to the edge of an explosive orgasm, grinding his own cock into the dirt faster and faster until he fell into the madness of ecstasy. Everything bad in his life - Terri, the constant battle to keep the Glee Club going - it all just fell away in that perfect moment of peace.

...

And then Will woke up sweating…

He blinked against the bright spring sunlight streaming down the window, his wilting penis nestling in his palm, something warm, wet and sticky covering his belly. He was smiling, tingling, practically glowing.

Jesus.

That dream… no words for how wrong.


End file.
